


The Laurel Queen

by MyParamour



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-13 12:22:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18940852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyParamour/pseuds/MyParamour
Summary: Sybilla Cousland, second in line as heir to Highever, and the newly-minted Queen of Ferelden. This is a story about what happened after the end of the blight, and Alistair's early reign as King.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that I will be taking some liberties with DA lore, and I hope you can forgive me for it when I do.

She breathed deeply. Her heart banged against her ribcage as the adrenaline spiked through her blood. Her vision tunnelled, the arch demon was hurt, it’s leg cut out beneath it as it shrieked into the sky. _Do it._

Her mouth rounded as she panted, trying to steal her strength for what she needed to do. She held out her daggers, and whispered the words long past told to her, the metal igniting in flames from hilt to tip. It had to be her.

“No!”

The sounds of her staccato breath made it so she almost missed it, but Alistair’s voice punctuated through the throngs of battle. She turned to him, crouched on all fours as he bled deeply from his shoulder, a parting gift from the fallen darkspawn beside him.

Her blue eyes met his, and despite the physical distance between them she prayed to the maker that he understood everything she wished she could say to him in that moment. Her eyes stung with tears and she clenched her jaw to stop them from escaping. _Not now, not now, not now._

She tried to smile at him, not wanting his last memory of her alive to be her face with an expression of despair, and she mouthed “I love you” before she turned away from him for the last time.

Then she ran.

 

* * *

 

 

_The door closed and Eamon and the others left them in peace. Relative peace, really, as they both knew what tomorrow would bring._

_Alistair sat on the bed, his armour clinking as the mattress depressed beneath him. “I don’t want it.”_

_She smiled fondly down towards him, “I know.”_

_He ran his right hand over his face, trying to wipe the anxiety from it. “I don’t know the first thing about it. I just know I’ll mess it up.” He reached for his cuff and began to remove it as he spoke. “I don’t even know what fork to use first. Did you see the look Isolde gave me at dinner? You’d think I’d come to the table with no breeches on.”_

_She couldn’t help but laugh, “it will all be alright, Alistair.”_

_“Of course you’d say that. You grew up in a great house, you know how this works. I haven’t even lived near lords and ladies for ten years, I’ve forgotten everything I’ve ever known about it. How am I supposed to be the King of Ferelden?”_

_She sat down next to him, placing her hand onto his cheek. “You’re much smarter and more resilient than you give yourself credit for.”_

_He furrowed his brows and turned his body towards her, “help me.”_

_Her hand slipped so her fingertips touched his jawline. “What?”_

_Alistair clutched at her wrists and held her hands to his chest. “Help. Me. When this is over, stay here with me. I can’t do this without you.”_

_She sighed, wanting so badly to give in, and to dream of a reality where she spent the rest of her days with the man that she loved, but she didn’t want to hold onto that dream just to have it so violently snatched away from her. “Alistair, we don’t even know if either of us will make it through tomorrow alive.”_

_He pulled her closer, “all the more reason to settle it now. Please.” He reached for her and placed his hand on the back of her neck, “just say that you, Lady Sybilla Cousland of Highever, when this is over…” He pushed her hair behind her ear, his fingers delicately brushing along her skin, “...that you will stay beside me as my Queen.”_

_“...Alistair…”_

_He leaned in and placed a kiss on her lips, whispering against her, “Please. I love you.”_

_Maybe. Just this once, she would allow herself to think of the future. “Alright.”_

_He breathed a sigh of relief, and held her body to his. She felt she could cry as she smelled his unique scent. It was always the same, a mix of sandalwood and the cheap soap he was so fond of for some reason. It was a smell she had grown extraordinarily used to, and it was so very Alistair._

_Her Alistair. When she first met him he was harassing a mage over a message, and she hadn’t known what to think of him in that moment. She’d just lost her parents, and she hadn’t been able to speak to her brother about his family. Her pain was raw, but his presence had managed to stitch together her broken heart in a way that she hadn’t thought possible, especially in such difficult times._

_Sybilla didn’t know much, but she knew that without him she’d already be long dead. “Oh, Alistair.”  She shut her eyes tightly, trying her best to stop the tears from emerging. She didn’t want to ruin what would most likely be her last night with him._

_She connected their lips once more, savouring in the feel of it. “I will be by your side. Now, until the end of my days.”_

_However short that may be._

 

* * *

 

 

She heard him screaming after her, but she didn’t allow herself to look back. Her eyes stayed fixated on the arch demon, and when she got close enough she lunged, plunging her daggers into its scaly flesh, slicing it open at the neck. It tried to let out a wail, but her firey blades had cut off its ability to make any sound.

It was close, she could tell. One more strike and she’d have it.

She dodged it’s talons, narrowly escaping being gutted. For a moment she felt relief, but then the irony of that made her let out a laugh at the realization. What did it matter? In a moment she would shut her eyes forever.

It’s head swung back, and with every ounce of courage she had within her she thrust her daggers into its chest.

She sank to her knees as her mouth dropped open, and her body felt as if lightning was trapped inside of it. Sybilla tried to let go of the hilts but whatever was running through her wouldn’t let her. She felt her body begin to shut down, not being able to withstand the life force that was swimming through her, and within a minute she fell, and her vision turned to black.

 

* * *

 

Her eyes fluttered open and she groaned as she sat up. She looked around her, and saw nothing but haze. Where was she? She stood, slowly, her feet uneasy beneath her. She had been told of where you go when you die, and either the stories had been wrong or she wasn't where she ought to be.

“It’s good to see you, pup.”

She turned abruptly, steadying herself as she locked eyes with him. “Father?”

He smiled, that gentle smile that she had longed to see since she’d left him to die while she'd made her escape with Duncan. “Come here.” He opened his arms to her and she gladly embraced him. “My darling, Sybbie. So brave, but far too young to be here.”

She couldn’t help herself, and she let out a quiet cry. “I didn’t want to--”

“Shh. Hush now.” He held onto her arms, and stepped back to look at her. “Dry your tears. I would send you back.”

She furrowed her brows, “but how can you? That’s impossible.”

For a moment he appeared as if he were looking through her, his mind focused on some distant memory, before his eyes returned to hers. “Maybe one last time your father can teach you something.”

She shook her head, “I don’t understand.”

He held out his hand and tapped his knuckle along her cheek. “You will… know that your mother and I love you.”

 

* * *

 

She stirred, and she felt a feathered mattress beneath her. That didn’t make sense. The room was dark, save for a candle lit on the nightstand to her left. She rolled to her side, and was surprised to see Alistair laying next to her, quietly snoring as he slept.

He looked so peaceful. She didn’t understand by what grace had brought her back, but she quickly decided to put that aside for another day. She wasn’t supposed to be here but she was, and she was going to make the most of it.


	2. Chapter 2

“Did you make a deal with a demon?”

She had known the question was coming but she still didn’t appreciate it being asked of her. “Of course not. You know that I would never.” Sybilla sat down on the chair closest to her. Despite awakening three days prior she still felt like her body wasn’t ready to be up and about. Whatever had happened when she killed the arch demon had clearly taken a tremendous toll on her. She wondered how long it would be before she was back to normal - or if she ever would be.

Wynne eyeballed her, seemingly trying to decipher whether or not she had believed her answer. She crossed her arms, holding them close to her torso. “I _do_ know that. But I also know that when people are desperate they make decisions that are out of character for them.”

The younger woman sighed and sat back, feeling the stiffness of the wood behind her back. “I didn’t.”

The disapproving look on her face faded, and Wynne stepped closer towards her. “I believe you. But I can’t figure out how you came back to us. We all saw you there, you were lifeless, both you and the arch demon. Alistair begged me to do something, anything, but when I touched you there was nothing.”

Sybilla bit her bottom lip, not wanting to envision the devastation that Alistair must have felt in that moment. She never wanted to cause him any kind of pain, no matter how momentary it had been.

“So then imagine our surprise when we saw your chest move, taking a breath… people aren’t meant to come back from the dead.”

She smirked, “says the woman with a spirit living inside of her.”

Wynne chuckled, “that’s different.”

“Is it? Neither of us are supposed to be here. Your spirit is what keeps you alive and, while I don’t know how it happened, I’m alive again as well.”

Wynne breathed deeply, “I suppose you’re right. Even after centuries of studying magic there’s so much we have yet to uncover.” She reached out and lightly squeezed her arm, “you should rest. I’m sure you’re worn out.”

Sybilla gave a small smile and covered Wynne’s hand with her own. “Thank you for coming to see me.”

“Of course.”

She stayed sitting as she watched her exit the room, closing the door behind her. She knew she should have told her about seeing her father in the fade, or wherever she had been, but she wanted more time to ponder it on her own before divulging that information.

She stood, walking the few steps it took to slide back into her bed. Unsurprisingly it was chilly in Denerim that day, and she pulled the fur blankets over top of her, trying to warm up. She revelled in the softness of it, how privileged she was to be exactly in that spot at that very moment. After the decision at the Landsmeet to put Alistair forward as the next King of Ferelden, she knew there was no way she could let him be the one to die. While Riordan had promised it would be him who would strike the final blow, her intuition had told her otherwise. Sybilla’s gut knew that it would never come to that. That it would have to be her. And when she saw Riordan fall from the sky any semblance of hope that she held of being wrong vanished. And so it was her.

So why was she still here?

Had her father been the one to make a deal with a demon? Is that why she was here now? And if that were the case, why would he do that? Every Grey Warden knew what was at stake. In peace, vigilance, in death… Regardless, she was eternally grateful to have been given a second chance. Alistair had been a gift to her, more than she deserved, and the thought of leaving him so abruptly as she should have made her heart ache.

She closed her eyes, trying to wipe that thought from her mind, as she slowly drifted off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

She felt the mattress depress slightly beside her, and she opened her eyes to see what had caused the movement. His hand found its way towards her face, his knuckles lightly brushing against her hairline. Alistair knelt on the floor and breathed quietly while staring at her.

“Alistair?”

Her voice brought him out of his reverie and he blinked, “sorry.” His delicate touch faltered and he moved his hand away. “Can’t stop myself from looking at you. I’d thought for certain I’d lost you.”

She adjusted her position and reached out so her own fingertips could rub against his forearm. “So did I.”

He lifted the covers and motioned for her to scoot over, and she followed his command willingly. He climbed in next to her, and immediately wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She wanted to ask if he held her so tightly to make sure that she was still real, but she didn’t much feel like being any more dower than they already were.

They shouldn’t focus on what could have been. Instead, they should focus on what is.

She cleared her throat, “so, have the Banns bullied you into having a coronation yet?”

“Maker, don’t remind me.”

Sybilla laughed into his chest, “oh come on, it’ll be fun. I’ll get to dress you up and one of the Mothers will put a big, shiny crown on your head.”

He rubbed the small of her back as he spoke, “you’re laughing now but you seem to have forgotten you’ll be right there with me, stewing in your own embarrassment.”

She smiled, “I can’t be a queen until we’re married, Alistair.”

He pulled away from her in order to look at her face as his hand slid up her back and stopped at the base of her neck. “Well?”

“Alistair, I can hardly walk across this room, how can you expect me to walk all the way down an aisle in front of an audience? By the time I’ve reached you I’ll be on my knees and crawling towards your feet.”

He raised his brow, “if you’re trying to put me off you’re doing a horrible job.”

She slapped his arm as best she could from her position, “lecher.”

He leaned in and closed the gap between them. “You know you’re being awfully rude to your King.”

“The Queen can be as rude as she wants. That’s the rule.”

His voice lilted, “oh, is that how it works? Maybe I should be going then. This isn’t what I signed up for.”

“Alistair!” She pulled him back as he attempted to roll over, not letting him get away. She laughed as he mock-struggled in her grasp, “stay! I want you to stay with me.”

He smiled at her, and it reminded her of months before, when he’d confessed to her that he thought she was beautiful, and then when she pressed him, he’d proceeded to talk about licking lampposts (a statement which she still brought up whenever she felt like embarrassing him).

“You know I will.”

She craned her neck and placed a chaste kiss on his chin before capturing his lips with her own. “I know… did you want to, soon?”

“What, get married?”

She nodded.

His expression quickly turned serious and she wondered if she’d said something wrong before he spoke. “I would have married you months ago if you’d let me.”

“Would you?”

He licked his lips, “remember when I told you that you’re the first woman I’ve ever spent the night with? And that if I had my way you’d be the last?”

Of course she did. How could she forget? “Yes.”

“Well, contrary to popular belief, not everything that I say is a joke. I meant it then, and I still mean it now. I’ll always mean it.”

Her heart swelled. Together they had been through so much turmoil, she could scarcely believe that the Maker would be so cruel and yet so kind to her in a matter of days. From the death of her parents, her sister-in-law and poor, poor nephew, to meeting the man that she was destined to spend her life with.

She slid her foot up his shin, catching on the fabric of his breeches as she hooked her thigh over top of his. “Good. Because as soon as I can trust my feet beneath me I will run down that aisle to claim you as mine.”

He bit his bottom lip to stifle a smile as he pushed forward, leaning his body over top of hers, gently pushing her back against the mattress. “Really? Are you planning on tackling me once you reach me?”

Sybilla giggled as she looked up at him, “only if you’re good.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss on her brow, before placing another to her temple. With his face so close to hers she realized that he hadn’t shaved in at least a few days, his jawline covered in a light dusting of dark blonde hair. She was always aware of how handsome he was, that had been clear from the beginning, but it was in moments like these when he really took her breath away.

She couldn’t stop herself from reaching up and pressing her fingertips to his cheek, his hair prickly against her skin.

“When you’re King will you grow a beard?”

He nudged her hand away and latched his mouth to her neck, just beneath her ear. She felt his hot breath as he whispered, “maybe.”

Alistair’s hand fell to her stomach, and he clutched at the fabric of her night dress, slowly pulling it upward. Her heart rate quickened, and she spread her legs apart as she felt the evidence of his arousal against her thigh.

“Oh.” He let out a huff as he discovered she wasn’t wearing any smalls, and he kissed his way down to her chest, and made quick work of the ties along the front. "Please tell me the healers would be fine with this."

She smiled, "I didn't exactly ask."

His fingers, slightly rough from years of training, touched along her entrance and the friction made her preen, a visage which encouraged him to slide one digit inside of her. She quickly gripped at his biceps, and her breath caught in her throat. 

"Well in that case..." He removed his hand and sat up, divesting himself of his clothing before returning to her. "...I'll try to be gentle."

 

* * *

 

A week later and the healers were far more positive about Sybilla's prognosis. So far as they could tell, nothing was wrong with her besides her body being extraordinarily fatigued and in need of immense rest. It had taken some prodding, but she'd managed to sweet-talk her way into being allowed for walks around the castle. At first it had been difficult to even stay upright for more than five minutes, but she'd pushed herself to heal and she was pleased with her progress, as were Alistair's new advisors. They had been quite eager to set a date for their wedding, so that they could then proceed to planning their coronation, but Sybilla was hoping they could wait just a bit longer. She wanted to be at her best on her wedding day, and she didn't want the effects of battle to play any part in what was meant to be the happiest day of her life.

Thankfully, Alistair was on her side, and no matter what anyone else thought, they wouldn't dare go against their knew King.

Fergus had arrived a few days previous, and while her reunion with her brother was a sombre one, she was incredibly happy to see him. She couldn't believe it had been almost a year since that fateful day. While still young, she had felt as if the two of them had aged 10 years over the course of one. They'd been through so much, but she could take solace in the fact that they'd both made it through to the other side. And Fergus, while wrecked by the death of his wife and child, had many years ahead of him to look forward to, and he tried his best to focus on the good.

_"So since my little sister will be Queen, does that mean that the King will always be on the side of Highever in council meetings? Can I ask for whatever I feel like and get it?"_

_She smirked, "spoken like a true Teryn."_

_He held his hands up, "excuse me, but I am just trying to look out for our people."_

_"Uh huh."_ She was happy that he hadn't lost his jovial spirit.

There was a tap on her bedchamber door, and she turned in her chair to face it. "Come in!"

The wood creaked as it was pushed open, and a smiling redhead stepped inside. "Sybbie! I've got something for you!"

"Do you?"

Leliana took a seat on the end of her bed and held out a box, "go on!"

As she reached for it Leliana looked as if she could barely contain her excitement, and she was eager to see what had made the bard so enthusiastic. She carefully untied the ribbon that held it together before removing the lid. "Oh, Leli! They're beautiful!"

She practically squealed, "Aren't they? I saw them as I was wandering through the centre, and I just  _had_ to get them for you as a wedding present. Try them on!"

She grabbed one of the shoes and slipped it onto her foot. It fit perfectly. "They're wonderful! Thank you so much!" She quickly slipped on the other shoe before she stood and walked around, getting a feel for them. 

"Of course! You've done so much for me, I wanted to repay you."

Sybilla stopped in place and grinned before she sat down next to her friend and pulled her in for an embrace. "I love them, and you." She would never wish what she had had to go through on anyone, not even her worst enemy, but without needing to go down the path that she had Sybilla never would have met those who now meant the most to her. And she felt lucky for it.

Leliana shifted, "now come on. The dress maker is waiting for us, and I'm making it my mission to design something so beautiful that Alistair will pass out upon seeing it."

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

She touched her hands to the bed post, lifting her arms out of the way as Leliana tightened the ties of her corset. The feeling of the bindings brought her back to the last time she had worn one; it was over a year ago, at a feast her father held as a farewell for Fergus and the Highever army before they made their way into battle. She remembered that night very fondly, and when she thought of her family in happier times that was one of the memories she liked to return to. 

Sybilla gasped as Leliana pulled tighter than she had anticipated, and the sound made Morrigan laugh. "Ease up, Leliana. We want her to be able to walk down the aisle without the chance of fainting along the way."

Leliana shot a glare to the witch but Sybilla did feel the tightness lax, which she was grateful for. 

She was nervous. Not about marrying Alistair, of that she had no reservations, but of being on display in front of everyone. It was true that she had experience with court and in dealings with lords and ladies, but she'd never been the centre of attention before. And despite now being deservedly known as the Hero of Ferelden, Sybilla was finding it difficult to deal with the recognition. But she hadn't shared those thoughts with Alistair. He was a nervous wreck as he tried to accustom himself to being the new King, and he was overwhelmed with the prospect. She didn't want to add to his stress.

She felt Leliana tuck the remaining ties into the top of her corset, and she turned around to face the two of them. "Well?"

Her dress was opulent, certainly the most extravagant one she'd ever worn. Most of the fabric was white velvet, shoulders barely capped enough to not slip down her arms, long and belled sleeves aligned with gold trim to showcase their affluence. The dressmaker was clever, and had chosen the colours white and gold to represent the joining of house Cousland and Theirin. The corset was various shades of gold and covered with an intricate design of laurels, with the front of the corset cascading into a train that stopped at the hem of her dress. She was touched when she saw it as it paid homage to both her heritage and it represented her and Alistair together. 

"You look beautiful. Truly."

Leliana held her hand to her chest, "was that an honest compliment, Morrigan? I'm not certain I've ever heard you say anything sincere before."

Morrigan rolled her eyes in a dramatic fashion but thankfully, instead of retorting she took a large sip of wine. 

Sybilla swallowed, "thank you... would you two mind giving me a moment alone?"

"Of course, Sybbie." Leliana touched her arms and placed a kiss to her cheek before she motioned for Morrigan to follow her, which she did, but not before downing the rest of her drink, an act which made Sybilla laugh to herself as the door was closed behind them.

She sat at the chair in front of her vanity, and stared. After taking care of herself for so long, Sybilla had decided that she wanted to do her hair and makeup on her own, so she left it simple. Her hair was long and curly, so she left most of it down, but tied two small sections back before she gently placed a tiara on the crown of her head. She hadn't anticipated wearing one, but she was incredibly touched when Fergus handed it to her, and she remembered that her mother had worn it on her wedding day, and she had loaned it to Oriana when she'd married her brother. Of  _course_ she would want to wear it today.

She added a bit of rouge to both her cheeks and lips before she reached for her earrings, and decided that she was ready. 

 

* * *

 

 

The chantry bells rang to signal that she had arrived, and Sybilla's heart skipped a beat. She slowly ascended the stairs, and smiled when she saw her brother waiting for her. "You look glorious. Our King is a lucky man." He kissed her temple, and she slipped her arm into his as the doors opened.

The sound of hundreds of guests shifting to stand at once echoed across the room, and a countless number of eyes fell upon her. She looked towards the end of the aisle, and Alistair remained facing away from her, as was tradition. Without seeing his face she knew that Alistair was most likely trying to keep his anxiety at bay, but at least from the back he looked as if he was succeeding.

They walked slowly, and Sybilla had it in her mind to actually just run up the aisle and tackle him to the ground as she'd promised, but she didn't want to do anything that would spoil the day, so she made herself keep the pace that her brother had set. When they reached Alistair, Fergus patted her shoulder before releasing her arm and stepping back. She looked to her right up to Alistair's profile, and he was breathing out of his mouth, the pressure of the day written all over his face. She couldn't stop herself, and she reached out, running her knuckles along his cheek. 

"Alistair?"

He leaned into her touch, and he finally turned to look at her. To her slight embarrassment he let out a quiet groan as he took in her appearance, "Maker's breath." He slid his hands along her jaw, cupping her face. "You are so beautiful."

She bit her lip to suppress a grin as the Mother cleared her throat to grab their attention. "Shall we?"

"Oh!" Alistair released her face but kept hold of her right hand, "sorry."

As the Mother began her speech she couldn't help but continuously steal glances up towards him. He had charmed her completely, she felt her happiness was about to burst through her chest. He looked so handsome, and she counted herself extraordinarily blessed to be a part of a union that she knew her parents would approve of, and one that she entered into for love. 

When it came to Alistair having to recite his vows he grabbed hold of both of her hands, covering them with his as he held them to his chest. "I, Alistair Theirin, swear unto the Maker and the Holy Andraste to love this woman for the rest of my days." His thumbs caressed her fingers, and she stepped even closer towards him, closer than what she knew to be socially acceptable.

"I, Sybilla Cousland, swear unto the Maker and the Holy Andraste to love this man for the rest of my days."

The Mother signalled for them to exchange rings, and when they had she declared them married.

 

* * *

 

 

It was hours later, and after a celebration which she'd never seen the likes of, which included Zevran wooing about seven different men and ladies into the palm of his hand, and Leliana enchanting the guests with her voice, Alistair and Sybilla had finally managed to sneak off to their bedchamber.

Alistair had been pawing at her for the last hour, and she had quickly been becoming just as desperate as he was to be alone. He slammed the door shut behind them and reached out for her, pulling her tightly against him and pressing his lips to hers. "Maker, Sybilla. I have been wanting you all day."

While aroused she couldn't help but giggled at his admission, "have you?"

He pulled back from her to look down at her face before he crouched and placed a kiss to her chest, "had it not been against all propriety I would have taken you right there in the chantry."

A groan escaped from between her lips and he grabbed hold of her waist, quickly spinning her around, almost causing her to lose her balance. She caught the bedpost and she felt Alistair pulling along the ties of the corset. "These damned things." She could feel him struggling to untie the top knot before he released it, and made quick work pulling the strings out along the bodice. "My first act as King will be to outlaw corsets."

She laughed at that, and reflexively she caught hold of her corset before it fell to the ground and she pulled it off of her, placing it on the nearest chair. 

He gave her no space as his hands roamed her body, and her skin felt as if she were on fire. Each time he touched her she thought, "that is my husband. That is my husband. That. Is. My. Husband," and she could almost cry tears of happiness at the reality of it. He guided her to lay back onto the bed and it was with rapt attention that she watched him remove his tunic, revealing his firm chest that was dusted with golden hair. He was so, so beautiful.

He had enough patience to untie his boots and to kick them off before he joined her, crawling over top of her body. His arms encompassed her, and he kissed her as she reached out, wrapping her arms around his back. "Alistair."

She slid her hands down and rested them on his ass, encouraging him to roll his hips into hers. "please, I need you inside me."

He moaned into her ear at her plea, and he immediately sat up, pushing his breeches down just far enough to slip himself out. He pushed at the fabric of her dress to get it out of his way and she opened her legs wide to let him in. He swallowed hard as he gazed down at her, "Maker, look at you."

She held her arms out, silently asking for him to join her and he did. She placed a kiss along either cheek before touching her lips to his, lingering in the kiss as he pushed his cock inside. She moaned against his mouth as he stretched her, and she couldn't help but feel like him fucking her was where she always wanted to be. If it were possible to run a country through their bedchamber she was certain she could find a way.

She had had sexual experience before she'd met him, she'd been honest with him about that, but she'd never shared such emotion with a sexual partner. When she and Alistair were together, she felt as if her body was made for him, and his for her. 

Nothing could be heard in the room besides their quiet whimpers, and the sound of two bodies joining in the most intimate way possible. The two of them revelled in this moment, and Sybilla felt as if she could explode before she let go of him and placed her hands on his chest. She ran her nails down, deep enough to leave marks, and she was ecstatic when Alistair seemed to enjoy the small amount of pain she was causing him. 

"Do you like that, my King?"

He let out a short laugh at her question, caught off guard by what she'd called him, and he shifted to his knees, dragging her hips with him, forcing her lower back to arch as her shoulders remained on the mattress. The change in position altered the angle of his cock inside of her, and each time he pounded into her he was hitting  _just_ the right spot. "Alistair, oh -  _please_ don't stop."

He didn't, instead he picked up his pace and she quickly slipped off the precipice, letting out a whine as she felt her body convulse, the feeling of which caused Alistair to grab her waist and pull her up so she sat in his lap and his strong arms lifted her up and down his cock in quick succession. His rhythm began to falter and she knew he was close, so she leaned into him, and bit his ear in the way that she knew he liked, and his hands clutched at her as he stilled, letting out a groan as he came inside of her. 

They stayed like that for more than a few moments, each of them needing time to come down from their highs, before she held onto his face and kissed the tip of his nose. "Maker, I love you."

He smiled, "And I you... but my name is Alistair, not Maker."

He got a smack on the chest for that one. 

 

* * *

 

I find it hard to describe clothing sometimes, so this is sort of what I was thinking of for her dress, except the fabric would be white instead of blue, and the sleeves would just about be falling off of her shoulders:

 

 

And for the tiara and earrings I was envisioning:

 

 


End file.
